Bridges of vulnerability

And why doubting cannot be a luxury for the privileged.

Vulnerability in singing or instrument class. For what?

My son, 8 years old, didn’t want to do his homework today.

Contrary to other days, despite his lack of desire, he began to do them, grumbling… protesting that his playing time was getting too short and he was losing valuable minutes.

I understand.

Especially because I had to write a letter of the alphabet about 40 times….

What started out as discontent escalated into a kind of wailing, a mix between talking and crying without tears, interspersing every now and then a fistful of frustration on the table and some minimal progress on the task (1 or 2 letters) in between sobbing and sobbing.

His loss of time was painful to him and the volume of his complaint was rising.

The reverberation in the dining room was becoming important.

The martyrdom increased.

Suddenly the sole of his foot would ache or he would have severe stitches in his cheeks.

And for a while now, my solutions had been running out.

What usually happens is that, if I manage to pass calmly the moment of his catharsis, there comes a point in which his frustration transforms into tears, with real tears, he unburdens himself, I hug him and he continues doing the task more calmly.

He accepts his destiny and gives himself to the work.

On the best days, he even has fun with German spelling books. 😅

The other days I have to explore new boundaries and discover ways out of the mess.

Because the catharsis gets longer when I choose dead ends: for example, when I explain to him that “this situation is getting us nowhere because we all have to go through it and learn to write the letter above the line”.

Which makes no sense… and which he, wisely, does not want to listen to in any way.

My intervention, far from helping, contributes to the exponential rise of the temperature in the dining room.

But the magic happens when, instead of explaining to him that the best thing for him would be to do his homework quietly and thus save time so he can go play earlier, I show him my real emotion: frustration.

For not being able to help him to get through the situation better…

I then articulated, without energy, “I don’t know how to help you…I’m out of ideas…I don’t know what to tell you.”

At that point, my son, noticing that I lost my problem-solving momentum, stopped whining.

He wanted to listen to me just when I ran out of script, and he looked at me with compassion… like someone who looks at a soccer player who lost the World Cup final…

And I’m not talking about using vulnerability to achieve my ends: in this case, doing homework.

That would be making the child the object of my ideas.

I am talking about describing my emotional state: tiredness, frustration. No twists and turns… just name them.

Amplify those feelings that are deafened with indications and solutions…

Making room for vulnerability builds bridges, even if sometimes we don’t know where they lead.

Bridges to talk, to listen, to feel and to stop supporting heavy structures that make us hard and inflexible…

Showing ourselves vulnerable helps us to bridge the chasms we sometimes create with our untouchable truths. For example: keeping up with school is important.

When I show myself vulnerable to my child, I give him the opportunity to feel that:

1. I listen to it

2. I am not a regulatory or idea-producing machine.

3. i don’t have all the answers

4. I reflect on my truths …especially if they are not good for us.

In the home setting of a desperate mother who has run out of answers 🤪, vulnerability is an ally to continue learning to live.

Now, being vulnerable or showing vulnerability in the workplace sounds unprofessional.

But, in music, in class more precisely, there are less homely ways to show ourselves to be human. Even if they tell you they don’t.

In my family there are several scientists: my mother and at least half of my six siblings.

I have always observed and admired the collaborative way in which scientists work.

And the truth is that I envied them.

Scientists don’t go around crying and screaming and being so emotionally vulnerable in their labs, but, in their work culture, it is established that they share information to keep moving forward.

And that they will have their disputes and conflicts, I have no doubt… Or rather, I know because we share the same roof.

In any case, in papers written for publication, there are always citations and acknowledgements: I got this thesis from this researcher, or I rely on the work of that researcher to continue my own scientific research.

Normal … for them.

Most of the time these works are done in teams, which support their knowledge in the wisdom already achieved by other teams. An infinite chain.

They consult each other and weave their wisdoms together to move forward.

They know what they do NOT know and rely on what other colleagues know.

This is an example of systematically established “occupational vulnerability”. There is a system that allows them not to know, to rely on what other scientists have already studied and to ask new questions.

A very efficient way to work… considering that the most relevant advances in science and technology for our civilization were made in the last 250 years… and humanity is a few hundred thousand years old.

In my visions of a less mystical teaching of singing, there was always this desire for more exchange between colleagues and for dynamic, flexible and expandable “truths” instead of dogmas.

More joint work, instead of rivalries.

A knowledge adaptable to the diversity of singers and instrumentalists out there. And I’m not just talking about technique, but about music rooted in a place bigger than the fingers, the breath or the vocal cords: the person.

For a reason, generally very understandable, it is more difficult for singing or instrumental teachers to show our vulnerability and accept our limits.

In my eBook I tell you about this topic: Guide to slow thinking and 8 tools for instrument and singing teachers. You can download it free of charge here.

With this vision of connected teachers I walked for many years, until I came across a practice that is used in psycho-social professions: intervision.

Peer-to-peer exchange, in other words.

My mission became to create myself this environment in which to be a singing teacher, to doubt and to reflect: a group of intervision where to regularly exchange experiences and questions.

I find it inspiring and enriching.

Vulnerability unlocks and opens doors that may not otherwise open.

There are as many ways to be a musician as there are musicians in the world and each one of them requires an individualized solution at each step.

And to better understand what each one needs is, as teachers, our daily challenge.

I got to know the more human, dynamic, flexible and expandable “truths” as the years went by, getting off the beaten path and venturing into less traveled roads.

There I found, and still find, curious and passionate colleagues, as well as tools to intertwine the tradition and subtlety of our art with the voice sciences, humanities, musical physiology and all that knowledge that adds up to help those who consult me.

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